Stargate: Thirteenth Legion
by Hammurabi
Summary: What if the Giza Stargate along with its DHD had been rediscovered over 2000 years ago, during the fall of the Roman Republic? ***Currently on hold***
1. Prologue

Author's Note

This story is an alternate universe crossover of the _Stargate_ franchise and _Rome_ the HBO TV series. _Stargate _and all related characters are the property of MGM Television Entertainment. _Rome_ and all related characters are the property of Home Box Office.

* * *

Prologue

Earth, Giza, Circa 3000 BC

Bonfires blazed, bright beacons in the night. People danced and sang in celebration of their great victory. At long last, the burden of Ra was lifted from their shoulders. Earlier that day, the few remaining Jaffa had been burned out of their garrison, a victory achieved after two weeks of battle. Over four hundred people died fighting against just twenty Jaffa, but eventually, numbers and courage overcame superior strength and staff weapons.

The stargate had already been pulled down, and the dialing device loaded into a donkey cart to be buried separately a day's journey away. Tomorrow, the stone masons would begin the work of carving the burial capstones to seal away the chaapa'ai forever. But tonight, everyone celebrated.

* * *

Ra's Court, Abydos landing platform, A few months later

The messenger hurried to the throne room entrance, whispered to one of the guards, handed over a scroll, and nervously hurried away. The guard glanced at the seal, quietly walked towards the throne, and handed off the scroll to the First Prime before returning to his position. The First Prime broke the seal, unfurled the paper and read the message, giving a single grunt as he did so.

"What news?" asked Ra.

"Nothing of importance, my lord. It seems the garrison on Earth has not reported in as scheduled," said the First Prime.

Ra snorted his contempt. "Perhaps the slaves on Earth finally worked up their nerve and rebelled? Or did the Jaffa go native? As you say, it is of no importance."

Earth wasn't always a backwater, thought Ra. The early days when he found the planet thousands of years ago had been a delight. An ideal species to host the Goa'uld. Easily bred, easy to repair. Versatile too. It was he, Ra, who first made the Jaffa from humans. And it was he, Ra, who had a monopoly on human trade with the other Goa'uld. That monopoly helped propel him to leader of the System Lords. But then humans turned out to breed a little too well, and naquadah mining colonies slowly became self-sustaining.

As the Goa'uld continued to expand into the galaxy, they made a remarkable discovery – other planets with humans already on then. The same species on different planets! How could this be? Whatever the cause, it broke his supply monopoly. After that, Earth lost its importance. It had no naquadah and was not strategically located, so really, there was no practical reason to continue hanging on to the planet except out of spite. The garrison was mostly for show, a place to send incompetent Jaffa as punishment. _If those idiots cannot hold their own against a few half-starved slaves_, thought Ra, _they deserve what they get_.

"Now, back to the other matter." Ra turned his attention to the minor Goa'uld reporting to him, an up and coming researcher calling himself Anubis. "Continue."

"Yes, my lord," said Anubis. "The reports say these new aliens look human, and they may in fact be yet another offshoot. They are the most advanced people we have encountered yet, though not, of course, as advanced as the Gods. They have a faster than light drive, but it still takes, at best speed, several months for them to travel from one nearby star system to another. Most of their ships are unarmed cargo carriers. The few warships in their possession have primitive kinetic energy weapons, and unenhanced nuclear missiles. None have shields. They are no match for a Ha'tak, and they seem smart enough to realize it.

"When confronted, they have, so far, made no attempt to fire on any ship of the Gods. Instead, they make concessions and trade offers. They claim to be very good at biochemistry, although that remains to be seen. For example, they offer drugs that is said to extend the life of anyone, including…." Anubis trailed off, looking around at the attendant human slaves and Jaffa, wondering how best to phrase his next sentence.

"Yes?" said Ra with just a hint of impatience.

"I'm sorry my lord. It's just that the suggestion is so… ridiculous. They claim, given time, they can extend the lives of the Gods themselves."

"Impudence!" snapped Ra, his eyes literally glowing with anger. "How dare they imply a God is not immortal!" _Although_, Ra reflected, _such a drug could prove useful if it extended the time between trips to the medical sarcophagus. Lord Yu is even older than me. If I can keep the drug's source secret, I can further consolidate my position. Perhaps I should spare these creatures for the time being. Allow them to think we are content to trade._

"What do these creatures call themselves?" asked Ra, after calming down a bit.

"The Aschen Confederation, my lord."


	2. Chapter 1 The Circle of Ma’at

Chapter 1 – The Circle of Ma'at

Alexandria, Egypt 48 BC

Pothinus stood just outside the palace gates, listening, watching. Even from here, he could hear the sound of an army disembarking at the docks. No need for a messenger to bring news; Pothinus knew what it meant. Julius Caesar and his legions had arrived in Alexandria, purportedly searching for Pompey Magnus, who had fled Rome ahead of Julius Caesar's march on the Roman capital. Pothinus sighed, and walked back inside the gates. He needed to inform the young King Ptolemy XIII of Caesar's imminent arrival.

Down at the docks, solders lined up in two columns, creating a secure pathway through the crowd. Julius Caesar strode confidently towards the palace, followed closely by his slave and advisor Posca, First File Centurion Lucius Vorenus, and an honor guard. As the entourage passed, the solders holding the crowd back neatly turned, and fell in to march behind, showcasing their discipline.

At the palace entrance, a slave silently bowed and ushered in Caesar and his men – who never slowed their pace – straight to the throne room. The throne room was obscured with clouds of incense as a pair of priests loudly chanted their prayers. Pothinus had positioned himself between the priests facing the entourage, effectively blocking direct access to Ptolemy XIII.

"Behold Ptolemy, he of the two ladies, he of sedge and bee. Behold Ptolemy, son of Ra, Ptolemy the Divine," intoned Pothinus.

Through the smoke, Lucius Vorenus could make out a fat, squirming fourteen year old boy sitting on the throne, clearly bored with the ceremony. Vorenus disapproved of his behavior. Fourteen was old enough for anyone to understand proper decorum, especially a king and living God on Earth.

"How long may we hope for the blessing of your presence?" asked Pothinus.

"Not long," replied Julius Caesar.

"Oh, we are desolated," Pothinus said in a disingenuous tone. "If His Glorious Honor cares to divulge his purpose here, the servants of the Mighty Lion would be ecstatic to help you in any way whatsoever."

"That is most kind of you." Caesar paused for a moment. "How goes your preparation for war?"

"War?" asked a surprised Pothinus. "We have no war prepared."

"I'm misinformed then. I was told the sister of the Mighty Lion disputes his right to the throne."

"Do not speak of her," demanded Ptolemy. "I piss on her! I shit on her!"

"It is true," said Pothinus, "our beloved princess has listened to ill counsel and raised some absurd claim. But… she has no support, none but traitors and barbarians."

Caesar turned aside to his aid, and spoke in a low voice, "What was that name?"

"Deilogos of Pergamum," replied Posca. "He can raise ten legions."

"Deilogos of Pergamum can raise ten legions for her," said Caesar to Pothinus.

"A petty bandit. I assure you, you will have no problem, no fears at all about Cleopatra," Pothinus said dismissively.

"Where is she?" asked Caesar.

"Ah, well, nobody knows. Somewhere in the south we believe."

"He lies," whispered Posca. "They have her."

"This dispute between you both must end," declared Caesar. "Rome desires Egypt to be at peace. Your grain ships must keep sailing."

General Achillas spoke up for the first time. "We are in absolute control of the country, from the lighthouse to the Cataracts."

"Good," said Caesar. "In that case, you should have no trouble in handing over Pompey Magnus."

The Egyptians stirred ever so slightly. An enormously fat man entered the room bearing a large clay jar.

"We have a gift for you, Glorious Excellency, with which we think you will be very happy," said Pothinus obsequiously.

The fat man carefully set the jar down, removed the lid, gently removed the object within, and placed it in a platter. Picking up the now empty jar, the fat man quietly left, leaving Julius Caesar to stare at the head of Pompey Magnus.

There was dead silence in the room. Finally, Caesar spoke. "Shame on the House of Ptolemies for such barbarity. Shame."

Pothinus stood up in surprise. "But… you are enemies."

Julius Caesar jumped to his feet shouting, angry, "He was a Consul of Rome!"

Guards on both sides of the room reached for their swords, ready to draw.

"A Consul of Rome," Caesar repeated, calmer this time. The guards relaxed slightly, but stayed alert.

"To die in this sordid way – quartered like some low thief – shame!" Caesar paused, and sat back down. "Where is the rest of him?"

"Oh, I assure you, he was cremated with full honors. All the proper decorum was followed," said Pothinus, backpedaling, hoping something could be salvaged from his ghastly misjudgment.

_A lie_, thought Caesar, _but_ _no matter. This works to my advantage._

"Enemy or not, the death of a Consul of Rome is a most serious matter. There are two things I require. First, I want the person who committed this crime in front of me tomorrow. Second, there are certain debts to Rome that can no longer be ignored. They must now be repaid. Posca?"

Posca stepped forward and produced a scroll. "This documents the debts incurred by the late King Ptolemy XII during his reign. In total, the amount comes to seventeen thousand thousand Dracma." Posca bowed, presenting the scroll.

Pothinus paled in disbelief. "That is impossible! There simply isn't that much coin in the country."

"Nevertheless, it is the amount owed," said Posca.

"Owed or not, we simply cannot raise that in a short time. Perhaps we could work something out…" said Pothinus. _Damn Cleopatra for splitting the country! If it weren't for her, I could have this arrogant Roman and his entire legion killed._

"Oh, but you must raise it, and quickly." Caesar paused, letting Pothinus sweat a little longer. "I would be willing to accept payment in kind, in addition to coin. Perhaps some of the great houses can contribute articles of value?"

_So that's it_, thought Pothinus. _The man hopes to plunder Alexandria without risking a single man in his army. Or worse, ally himself with Cleopatra and the legions willing to rally to her cause. We can no longer afford to keep her captive; she must be killed immediately._

"If I might make a suggestion," spoke Theodotus. Officially, Theodotus was tutor to Ptolemy XIII; in fact, he held great power due to his influence, second only to Pothinus and Achillas. "We could arrange for a demonstration of the Circle of Ma'at."

"The Circle of Ma'at?" said Caesar, curious. He glanced over to Posca, who gave a slight shake of his head. He had not heard of it either.

"Yes," said Pothinus, seizing the moment. "It is a thing of great antiquity, value and power. The priests will not be happy about its loss, but the Circle by itself is more than enough to meet the debt you demand."

"Very well. I will attend this demonstration. As for its price, that will depend on whether we find it to be of value." Caesar enjoyed the look on Pothinus' face. "Until tomorrow."

With that, Caesar turned and swept out of the room. Posca wrapped part of his toga around the head of Pompey Magnus, scooped it up and hurried after his master.

Away from the palace, Caesar convened a meeting with his advisors. Caesar turned to Posca. "So you know nothing about this Circle of Ma'at?"

"About a circle, no," said Posca. "Ma'at, however, is another matter."

"Go on."

"Ma'at is the Egyptian Goddess who brings order out of chaos. She represents harmony, balance, truth, order, justice, morality and is a judge of souls entering the afterlife. She regulates the stars in the sky, and the cycle of the seasons. Ma'at is said to bind all things together."

"A busy woman," commented Mark Antony. A few men laughed, but it quickly stopped when Caesar didn't crack a smile.

"So this circle must represent order out of chaos," said Lucius Vorenus.

"That would be my guess," replied Posca.

"Enough about that," said Caesar. "We will find out more tomorrow.

"We know Cleopatra is being held captive somewhere south of the city. She is a problem for Ptolemy, and after today they are likely to eliminate that problem. Lucius Vorenus, you are to take Titus Pullo with you south in search of Cleopatra. Find her, rescue her, and bring her back here. Do it quietly. If she is discovered with you, you will be set upon by more men than even you and the great Titus Pullo can defeat."

"Sir!" said Vorenus, snapping out a salute. He turned smartly, and set off to find Titus Pullo.

"And now, it is our sad duty to hold a proper Roman funeral for what remains of Pompey Magnus. Mark Antony, organize the men to build a pyre. I must say prayers now."


	3. Chapter 2 The Temple of Ma'at

Chapter 2 – The Temple of Ma'at

Alexandria, Egypt 48 BC

Within an hour of sunrise the next morning, Julius Caesar, followed closely by Posca and ten soldiers, approached the palace gates. Pothinus was already there to meet them in person. _I do wish Theodotus would hurry up and get down here. I'd rather not deal with this man on my own._ He didn't give a second thought to the palace guards and a dozen slaves waiting with him.

"Greetings your Glorious Honor. I do enjoy this time of the day before the heat sets in, don't you? Would you care to have a meal before we begin? Our cooks and servants are thrilled to delight you with the best Alexandria has to offer, any time of the day or night."

"You are most kind, but no. I have already eaten. Tell me Pothinus; are you the man who killed Pompey Magnus?"

"What?" said Pothinus, nonplused by the question. "Of course not! Why would you think that?"

"Yesterday, I said I wanted the person who killed Pompey Magnus in front of me tomorrow. Today, you are the person in front of me."

"No, no, it is not I. And alas, no, the killer is still not caught. I can assure you General Achillas and his men are doing their utmost, and are surely closing in on him as we speak. It should not be long now. In the meantime, perhaps you would like to visit the Circle of Ma'at? We are most anxious for you to see its power. It is not far from here to the Temple of Ma'at. We will be joined shortly by Theodotus, who can tell you more about its history than me."

* * *

Theodotus and General Achillas stood together in a palace window, watching the arrival of Julius Caesar and his retinue.

"I could have the entire city rise up and slaughter these Romans with just a word," said Achillas.

"Yes you could. We could win the battle, but not the war that would surely follow," replied Theodotus. "It was a miscalculation to have Pompey Magnus killed, and now we are paying the price. We must bide our time, and give Caesar just enough of what he demands to keep the peace."

"I do not like this," said Achillas in a low voice.

"Neither do I, but for now we are not in a position to bargain. We must play the game with the pieces we have at hand. To that end, I wonder if I might borrow your man, Septimius. I have a job for him."

"Of course. I'll send him right over." Achillas paused a moment longer, glaring out the window, then turned and left the room. About a minute later, a man in Legionary uniform walked in and stood at attention.

"Sir? You wanted to see me?"

"Ah, Lucius Septimius. I will soon be joining the group outside to go to the Temple of Ma'at. I want you to follow at a discrete distance, and wait until we have entered the temple. Then enter, deliver this to Julius Caesar or his man personally, and wait for further instructions." Theodotus gave Septimius a scroll bearing the royal seal.

"You can depend on me sir," said Septimius as he left the room.

"I know I can," said Theodotus to himself.

* * *

"Oh, and here is Theodotus now," said Pothinus, relieved he would no longer have to deal with Julius Caesar on his own.

"Greetings Glorious Excellency, Pothinus. I do apologize for the delay. It is not often I get a chance to leave the palace. Would you care to partake of any food or drink before we leave? The finest cooks in Alexandra are to be found here in—"

"That won't be necessary. I would like to get underway," interrupted an irritated Caesar.

Theodotus had a little laugh to himself. He knew perfectly well Pothinus would have made the same food and drink offer. "Oh, but of course! You need only ask."

Pothinus signaled the slaves, who approached with a four man litter, and set it down. Caesar and Posca sat down together in the forward facing seats, Pothinus and Theodotus in the backward facing seats. The dozen slaves, three at each corner, picked up the litter, and the palace guards fanned out into the street to clear the way. Caesar's men formed up around the litter to perform the same function, as well as keep an eye on the palace guards, and soon they were underway.

"Tell me, your Glorious Excellency, what do you know of the history of our fare city?"

"I know it was established over 280 years ago when Alexander the Great liberated Egypt from the Persians," replied Caesar.

"After Alexander's death, Ptolemy Soter, or Ptolemy I, constructed the Tomb of Alexander, the famous harbor lighthouse, and established the Library of Alexandria," added Posca.

"Quite so," said Theodotus, warming up to his tutor role. "Now our library is not just a collection of books. The Library of Alexandria is charged with gathering the entire world's knowledge, and it has been performing this task for well over 260 years. It is also a research center, attracting scholars from around the world. Its repository of history and scientific knowledge is unequaled in the world today."

"A point of civic pride, I'm sure," said Caesar dryly.

"Ah yes, but this is where it gets interesting. As you know, Ra is central among the Gods worshiped by many modern Egyptians today. But it seems this was not always so. Among the research papers in the library is a transcript made around two hundred years ago; a record of an oral tradition of a Ra sect that subsequently died out. Or perhaps I should say, an anti-Ra sect, for this work maintains Ra was, in fact, a hated enemy of the people."

"If Ra was a hated enemy of the people, then why is he worshiped today?" asked Posca.

Theodotus looked pointedly at Posca. "Gods do great and terrible things, do they not? What of your own God, Jupiter, who once caused a great flood, killing all but Deucalion and Pyrrha? And yet, Rome has a temple in his honor."

"That is so," said Posca.

"According to this tradition," continued Theodotus, "in ancient times Ra once ruled the world directly, in person, as kings do today. One day, Ra went up into the heavens never to return, leaving behind solders known as Yaffa, man-like creatures of great strength, to govern in his absence. The people rebelled, and in a great battle, killed off the mighty Yaffa. These ancient people separately buried two relics to prevent the return of Ra's minions. Most importantly, the tale included a description of where these relics were buried.

"Given how at-odds this story of Ra is with the commonly accepted view, it was filed away and forgotten. It was during the reign of the Mighty Lion's father, King Ptolemy XII, when this document once again came to light. When he heard of this tale, Ptolemy XII was shocked at the portrayal of Ra, but in spite of that, authorized a dig for the relics, if only to prove the story false. Much to everyone's surprise, the first relic turned out to be relatively easy to find; it was discovered after just a few of months digging."

"The Circle of Ma'at," guessed Caesar.

"Indeed. Now the race was on to find the second relic. Despite attempts to keep the project secret, tomb robbers had heard of the first discovery, and they were determined to claim the second relic for themselves. A large piece of the debt run up by Ptolemy XII was due to the costs associated with this search. Soldiers had to be dispatched to guard possible sites, and there were even decoy digs set up to misdirect the tomb robbers. Finding the second relic turned out to be a much more difficult prospect than the first. The area where it was ultimately found is now arid desert, with many of the reference landmarks obliterated by time. In another hundred years or so, it would be impossible to find except by pure chance."

The procession came to a stop, and the litter was carefully lowered to the ground. They had arrived at the Temple of Ma'at. From its appearance, one would never know Egypt had been under Persian and Greek rule for over 400 years, before becoming a vassal state to the Roman Republic. It was an imposing stone building with characteristic hieroglyphs carved on the walls and on the papyrus-style columns. Its windows were high, narrow slits starting a good 20 feet above the ground. With Theodotus leading the way, the group proceeded through the front entrance.

After the bright mid-morning light, it took a moment for Caesar's eyes to adjust to the gloom within. The first thing he noticed was a large round flagstone mounted in iron brackets on the left hand wall. There were six strange glyphs carved in relief centered vertically, much like a cartouche, but these glyphs did not look Egyptian.

"Is this it then?" asked Caesar, somewhat disappointed after all the buildup.

"Oh no, this stone was found at the site of the first relic. This is the centerpiece of several stones found covering the circle. _That_ is the Circle of Ma'at, just past Ma'at herself," said Theodotus, pointing deeper into the temple interior.

Ahead was a larger than life stone figure of a woman, whose dress covered her from just above the ankles to just below the breasts. Her left hand held an ankh, her right a staff, and upon her head a band held a long ostrich feather. Ma'at stood ready to pass judgment. Beyond her was a large ring of unknown material, perhaps three times the height of a man, with more of the odd looking symbols in relief all around the ring. Some of the symbols matched the stone carving. As Caesar took a few steps forward, another strange sight previously hidden by the statue came into view. It resembled a large stone mushroom, a rounded tablet on a short column, repeating the strange symbols, this time arranged in two concentric circles around a red dome.

"The Circle of Ma'at has a total of 39 unique sigils around its circumference. The second relic here is the Sigil Stone, which contains 38 out of 39 sigils. The story says it was used to call forth Yaffa from the netherworld by pressing the correct sigils in the correct order. They would arrive into this world by passing through the circle. Living men, in turn, could be dispatched to the netherworld, again by passing through the circle. In nearly twenty years of study, we have never seen Yaffa emerge from the circle no matter how many times we cast the incantation found on the cover stone. We can, however, confirm men can be lost to the netherworld."

"Do you mean to say this thing actually works? That it can truly make contact with the netherworld?" asked an astonished Posca.

Before Theodotus could reply, there was an interruption at the entrance to the temple; the sounds of an argument. "Sorry to disturb you sir," said one of the soldiers as he trotted up Caesar. "There is a messenger who insists he must make his delivery to you personally."

"Let him pass," said Caesar.

Lucius Septimius approached Caesar, bowed, and held out a scroll with the Ptolemy Imperial seal. Caesar waved his hand, and Posca stepped forward and took the scroll. Posca broke the seal and quickly scanned the message before reading it aloud.

"From his majesty King Ptolemy XIII, he of the two ladies, et cetera et cetera, to Gaius Julius Caesar, Consul of Rome et cetera et cetera, I send greetings. He who has delivered this scroll and now stands before you is he who killed Pompey Magnus."

Lucius Septimius stood stunned by the betrayal, and then tried to break and run. It was too late; he had been quietly surrounded by Caesar's soldiers, who held him fast.

"If we could beg your indulgence, your Glorious Honor, perhaps we could use this man to demonstrate the Circle of Ma'at?" said Pothinus.

"By all means," replied Caesar.

"You have seen the six sigils displayed on the cover stone. I will now push these same sigils here on the Sigil Stone," lectured Theodotus as he pushed the first sign. An astonishing thing happened; light began to shine from the pushed sigil. At the same time, one of nine V-shaped markers on the circle moved and lit up as well. As Theodotus continued to push sigils, each one lit up in turn along with a corresponding V, until all six sigils were completed. Everyone was very impressed.

"As you can see, three markers are now lit in the left side, and three on the right. The center top marker is still dark."

"What about those bottom two markers?" asked Posca.

"Those appear to be merely decorative, a misdirection on the use of the circle. Only six sigils plus the center dome—seven markers on the circle—are needed to complete the incantation. We believe the reason for all these sigils is to make it impossible to guess the right combination. Had it not been for the cover stone, we would never know how to call forth the netherworld.

"And now for the final step. Would his Glorious Honor care to come forward and complete the incantation?"

Caesar stepped up to the Sigil Stone, a bit nervous, but he would not let it show. He held his hand over one of the shining sigils. "I feel no heat."

"Astonishing, isn't it? Light without heat. If you would place your hand upon the red dome…."

Caesar, gently, delicately placed his right hand on the dome. Nothing happened.

"Give it a bit of a push," stage whispered Theodotus.

Caesar pushed…

…And was rewarded with an animal-like groan from the circle, as a sudden rush of water from nowhere leaped out of the circle straight for them! Before anyone could do anything more than duck down, the water suddenly pulled back into the circle, like a dog on a chain jerked back by its master. After the gloom of the temple, the glow from the calm puddle was nearly blinding. The smell of fear was palpable, although a few of the old hands at the temple were quietly snickering.

"Not to worry," said Theodotus. "That wash of water is the only time the circle is dangerous. Anything in the way of the wash simply disappears. We lost a few slaves that way. It is perfectly safe to walk up to it now; you can even touch it. Your men can send Septimius to be judged by Ma'at."

Caesar signaled his soldiers, who bodily carried the now screaming Septimius to the circle.

"Hey Septimius! Hope you've got the money to pay the ferryman," said one of the soldiers as he relieved Septimius of his money purse. "Woops!" "Say hello to your ancestors," another mocked as they approached the circle. Without hesitation, the men heaved him into the vertical puddle. Septimius disappeared without a trace. A moment later, the puddle itself disappeared, plunging the temple back to its quiet gloom.

"Are you sure he's gone? He wasn't just tossed through the ring and out the other side, and has gone into hiding?" asked a suspicious Caesar.

"You may organize a search if you like, but I can assure you he is gone from this world. We have tried this many times, and the results are always the same," said Theodotus.

Caesar gave a signal, and his men began to conduct a thorough search of the temple. After twenty minutes, the search was over. "We have searched every nook and cranny, but couldn't find him sir. We found an old passageway in the back of the temple, but it has not been used in a long time; he would have left tracks in the dust. And we know he did not go out the front entrance, because that has been guarded the entire time."

"Did you check the base of the circle as well to make sure there are no trap doors, false bottoms or other such trickery?" demanded Caesar.

"Yes sir, we did. We found nothing of the sort."

"Very well," said Caesar, directing his attention back to Theodotus. "For the time being I am satisfied with the explanation Septimius is gone from this world. A pity; I would have liked to put his head on a spike. It is clear these artifacts have great power, and I will accept them in partial payment of the debt owed to Rome."

Pothinus spoke up. "Partial payment, Glorious Excellency? Surely you must understand these items are worth a great deal more than a mere seventeen thousand thousand dracma."

"I understand nothing of the sort. As Theodotus admitted earlier, a 'large piece' of the money lent by Rome was spent digging these things up. Therefore, we already have an investment in these items. Why should we pay twice?"

"But surely, Glorious Excellency, you would agree—"

Just then, the Circle of Ma'at began to activate, chevrons lighting up one at a time.

"Who is casting the incantation!" demanded Caesar.

"No one sir!" replied a soldier. "No one is near the Sigil Stone."

"Has this ever happened before?"

"No, never!" replied Theodotus and Pothinus together.

"Rally to me!" ordered Caesar. All of his soldiers drew their swords, their attention focused on the circle, waiting for… well, who knew?

As before, a watery whoosh shot out before quickly retreating back, but this time everyone was expecting it. What was not expected is what emerged from the gate. Out came Lucius Vorenus and Titus Pullo, prodding along Lucius Septimius in front of them. Trailing behind came a striking woman of regal poise and a Greek man.

"First File Vorenus and Legionary Pullo!" said Caesar. "I might have known. I've said it before – you two are protected by the Gods! I see you brought Septimius with you." Caesar smiled at Septimius. "It seems I get to put your head on a spike after all."


	4. Chapter 3 Search and Rescue Part I

Author's Note

Hi Everyone. Yes, it's been a while since the last post. This next chapter has gone rather slowly, plus in Real Life™ I've been busy with end-of-the-year rush stuff at work. Anyhow, I thought I'd go ahead and split things up, to give you something to read while I carry on plodding away at this in my spare time.

* * *

Chapter 3 – Search and Rescue - Part I

Inside the Royal Palace, Alexandria, Egypt 48 BC

Rewind to the day before….

_His business concluded for the day, Caesar turned and swept out of the throne room. Tomorrow, he would see this so-called Circle of Ma'at. Pothinus, Theodotus, and Achillas watched as Posca wrapped part of his toga around the head of Pompey Magnus, scooped it up and hurried after his master._

"If you will excuse us, your Majesty," said Pothinus, bowing deeply. The boy king, still feeling intimidated by Caesar's presence, silently nodded his assent.

All three men bowed to His Majesty King Ptolemy XIII, and backed away a few steps before turning to leave the throne room. No one spoke as they walked down the hall, servants occasionally bowing out of their path. Finally, they came to Theodotus' office. As they entered, Theodotus dismissed the doorman, and closed the doors himself – an unusual act. That alone would be enough to have the servants talking, but at least they could now speak in private.

"I must say, that did not go as well as I had hoped," said Pothinus.

"If by 'did not go well' you mean your cunning plan to get into Caesar's good graces by killing his opponent fell completely apart, then yes, it did not go well," said a sarcastic Theodotus.

"A plan both of you endorsed, as I recall," Pothinus replied dryly. "Who knew Caesar would prove to be so capricious? It goes against the natural order to mourn the loss of an enemy. Romans are a strange people."

"I suspect he's simply putting on a show to keep us off balance," said Achillas.

"Whether Caesar is genuinely upset or putting on a show, the result is still the same," pointed out Theodotus. "When it comes to Egypt, all he really cares about are regular grain shipments."

"And to ensure that, he will do whatever it takes; he will interfere in our internal affairs," said Pothinus. "That could mean anything from arbitrating a truce between Ptolemy and Cleopatra, to allying with Cleopatra to overthrow Ptolemy altogether."

"We must limit his options," said Achillas. "Cleopatra must go."

"I agree," said Theodotus. "But how best to proceed? Or more importantly, when to proceed?"

"We should not risk bringing her back here," said Achillas. "If he gets wind of it, Caesar will stop any attempt at an execution. I can dispatch guards loyal to me to kill her on the spot, out in the desert. If need be, we can always claim she was set upon by bandits. As for when, the time is now. If we wait, we risk losing the opportunity as well as our heads."

One did not easily move against a living God on Earth. It was one thing to spirit Queen Cleopatra out of the city, quite another to order her execution. After all the planning and manipulations from behind the throne, Pothinus and Theodotus hesitated for a moment. Events seemed to be moving of their own accord now, and Achillas was right. Both men nodded their agreement.

"I'll give the order," said Achillas, his face expressionless. "My men can be there by sunset."

***

_Lucius Vorenus, you are to take Titus Pullo with you south in search of Cleopatra. Find her, rescue her, and bring her back here. Do it quietly. If she is discovered with you, you will be set upon by more men than even you and the great Titus Pullo can defeat._

"Titus Pullo! Titus Pullo! Report to Lucius Vorenus." The call went out, relayed from man to man, spreading out like a wave until the entire camp had heard the summons. The men nearest Pullo looked at him expectantly. There was no way he could feign ignorance. _Cack! Of all times to get new orders_, thought Pullo.

"Well my friends, I'll leave you to it," he said.

"More for us," the men laughed back. Fuming at that parting comment, Pullo headed off in the direction of the officers' tents in search of Lucius Vorenus.

After a few minutes, Pullo found Vorenus, looking more humorless than usual. _This can't be good. _"_Salve_ Vorenus."

"_Salve_ Pullo. We have a mission."

"What, now? Have you _seen_ the girls hanging around camp? A lot prettier than the ones in Gaul, I can tell you, and reasonably priced too. We were just about—"

"Yes now, Pullo. Save your strength for another time. We need to pick fresh horses and get moving. I'll explain on the way to the camp prefect."

***

Achillas walked down the hall, his footsteps echoing slightly. Everything seemed oddly still to him. Perhaps he was imagining it, but the servants seemed to be avoiding him. None were in sight. Finally, he reached Theodotus' office, and threw open the doors, the sudden noise and motion startling the anxious men waiting inside.

"It is done," said Achillas. "As we speak, my men are riding to the south."

"Good," said Pothinus, relieved.

"Shall we tell him now?" asked Theodotus. King Ptolemy XIII was just a boy, and Pothinus, as regent, could make decisions on his behalf, but Ptolemy was their divine king and needed to be kept informed.

"Let's wait for a bit," said Pothinus. "If we are too quick, the deed can be undone."

***

Vorenus and Pullo had been riding south for just under an hour, and already the climate had changed from the temperate sea breezes of Alexandria to still dry air and a hot burning desert sun.

"Sons of Dis! This place is hotter than Vulcan's dick," complained Pullo. "Why would the Gypos want to live anywhere like this?"

"Show some respect," said Vorenus. "This is an ancient place. The Egyptians and their Gods were here long before the founding of Rome."

"Well if you ask me, their Gods abandoned this place a long time ago, and for good reason. Just have look around! Sensible people, their Gods."

Vorenus was, in fact, looking around, but for his own reasons. "There!" said Vorenus pointing to an outcropping of rock ahead. He gave his horse a light kick, picking up speed from a walk to a trot. Pullo followed suit. Sure enough, the other side of the outcrop was in shade. Not much shade, but it was better than nothing. Vorenus stopped and dismounted.

"We wait here," said Vorenus.

"Wait here? For what?" asked Pullo, somewhat perplexed.

"Do you know where to find Cleopatra?" asked Vorenus.

"You said she's south of the city. So we ride south. What's the problem?"

"The problem is these hills and valleys. Not much to look at, but enough to hide a small party that doesn't want to be found. We could ride right past and not know it. If they burn only dry wood, we'll never spot their camp fire either. So rather than play a game of chance, we wait and let the Egyptians lead us to them."

"But I like games of chance," Pullo said playfully. Vorenus didn't respond. _No sense of humor, that one._ "Well, any excuse to sleep off the heat is good enough for me. I can spend my time dreaming about that camp girl with the pretty hair."

"I wouldn't count too much on her pretty hair."

"Why not?"

"I've heard it said the prostitutes around here shave their heads and wear wigs."

***

The throne room guards saluted, and opened the doors wide. Ptolemy was sitting on the dais in front of the throne, playing with a toy. He quickly threw the toy behind the throne and stood up, hoping his tutor had not seen what he was doing. Theodotus was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to care about the transgression.

"Excellency! Most glorious news," began Pothinus. "You know how much you have wished your queen dead? And how we kept advising you the time was not right?"

"Yes, of course!" said Ptolemy impatiently. "My sister was always bossing me around when we were growing up. She was not humbled either, as a wife should be, after we married. I hate her!"

"Well then, sire, you will be glad to know we are now in complete and utter agreement. It is my pleasure to inform you your queen will be dead before sunrise tomorrow."

Ptolemy clapped his hands in delight, and did a little skipping dance around the room, humming a happy tune before coming to a stop in front of his advisors. "Let's not make it too early," he said. "I want to see her before she goes. Make a couple of hours after sunrise." The men looked at each other.

"But your majesty, it's too risky to bring her back here to the city. Caesar's men are bound to be on the lookout. It's far better for her to be executed where she is, quietly, out in the desert," Pothinus said in a reasoning tone.

"No!" said Ptolemy as he stomped his foot. "I said, I want to see her before she goes. I don't give a fig about Caesar, and I don't want her killed out in the desert. You know what I want."

All three men blanched at the very idea. "Your majesty," said Theodotus, speaking as gently as he could. "We have talked about this before. Whatever your feelings for her, your queen, as a divine being, deserves a proper death here on Earth, not to be thrown into the Netherworld while still alive. If that happened, she could never become a God among the stars."

"Exactly!" pouted Ptolemy. "That's why I want her put through the Circle of Ma'at. I will never have to put up with her again, either here or in the afterlife."

"But the order has been given," blurted out Pothinus. "The men are on their way. We cannot stop them now."

"You had better stop them," warned Ptolemy. "Because if my dear wife and sister cannot be put through the circle, alive, you will go in her place. That goes for all three of you!"

"Sire, I must protest!" said a nervous Pothinus. "I am your regent; Theodotus your tutor; Achillas your general. We are your advisors, appointed by your father King Ptolemy XII himself. You cannot have us summarily put through the circle."

"**Do not tell me what I can or can't do!" **Ptolemy blazed. "I piss on you! You won't be regent forever, old woman. If you fail to do exactly as I order, I promise you, at the very least, none of you will live more than a few painful days past my coronation."

"Sire! I will see to it myself," said Achillas, cutting off any further argument from Pothinus.

"See that you do," said Ptolemy, who stomped off to sit and glower on his throne. All three men bowed, beat a hasty retreat out of the throne room and back down the hallway.

Theodotus look straight at Pothinus. "That went well," he mocked.

"Be quiet! We're not dead yet. Achillas, is there any chance you can call off your men?"

"I don't know. All I can do is try," said Achillas, thinking. "Archers. I may need archers to bring my own men down. Returning with Cleopatra won't be easy if we run into any of Caesar's men. I need good swordsmen, and fast horses." With that, Achillas picked up his pace, turning off in the direction of the royal stables.

"Good luck," both Pothinus and Theodotus called to his retreating back.

***

The sound of horses cantering echoed off the dry valley walls. Vorenus shook off his lethargy and sat up. Three men came into view and rode past, kicking up a cloud of dust, unaware they were being observed. The sound of their passage began to fade away.

"Pullo! Wake up!" said Vorenus, giving Pullo a kick. "We follow those men." Pullo was awake and on his feet in a moment.

"They're certainly in a hurry. Don't look too friendly to me either," said Pullo as he swung up onto his horse.

"No, they're not. Those are palace guards."

"Best not fall too far behind, or we'll have no one to rescue," said Pullo as the two men rode off in hot pursuit.

Trailing perhaps thirty minutes behind, a second, larger group of men were riding south as well, Achillas at the lead, desperate to overtake the first three riders. The group was simply too large for the task – the gap increased as they fell further behind. Vorenus and Pullo were now sandwiched between these two groups, all with the same destination.

***

Cleopatra's camp, somewhere in the desert

Acrid smoke curled up from a hash pipe, scenting the air in what appeared to be a small, but luxuriously appointed bedroom dominated by a large bed. The "bedroom" was, in fact, a litter of unparalleled size. No one in the rest of the civilized world had anything like it. It was simply too large for practical use, limited as it was to only the widest of city streets. Desert travel, however, did not present obstacles.

The occupant of the litter was having a rather pleasant buzz. At twenty-one, Cleopatra was in her prime. To be sure, she was very pretty, but what really got men's attention was her poise, her sensual animal magnetism, and a willingness to look a man straight in the eyes with a steady gaze. For the uninitiated, she brought out primal instincts; a moth drawn to a flame. It took conscious effort to behave with decorum in her presence. The men of the camp, though, were drawn from the palace staff, long since immune to her charms.

Cleopatra was bored. The hashish helped, but it was not enough. She could not leave the litter either. A chain attached to her right ankle saw to her "house" arrest. So she smoked her pipe, and took out her frustrations on her personal slave.

"Charmian you little runt, why don't you amuse me by pretending to be a pig?" said Cleopatra, who gave a pig-like snort and burst out laughing as she imagined Charmian on all fours, grunting and rooting.

"How about I tell you a story instead?" Charmian shot back. "Once upon a time, there was a charming young queen who was locked away by her evil little brother. The queen began to smoke too much hashish, turned ugly and grew green scales. By the time soldiers came to her rescue, they thought a green-scaled monster had eaten her, so they killed it. The end."

"I can stop smoking any time I want," declared Cleopatra. "I could just throw this pipe away."

"Then why is the pipe is still in your hands?"

"I don't have green scales."

"Not yet."

"Hmmp," said Cleopatra, bored with the conversation. She looked out at the setting sun, and in her haze became fascinated with the way the slight breeze moved the curtain back and forth. She was too mesmerized to notice the sound of horsemen arriving.

Charmian was alert and apprehensive. "Your majesty," she whispered, shaking Cleopatra out of her reverie. "We have visitors."

"Visitors at dusk? How very strange," said Cleopatra, who did her best to shake off the effects of the hashish. Charmian quickly mopped sweat off Cleopatra's brow, as Cleopatra resettled herself on the bed to be more presentable.

There came a brief knock on the litter, and a man entered without waiting for permission. Cleopatra hadn't bothered to remember his name – she just thought of him as her hated jailer.

"Your majesty," he said, bowing deeply. He seemed nervous.

"What do you want Aapep?" said Charmian, a tone of hostility distinct in her voice.

"I'm afraid I have bad news, your majesty. You must prepare yourself."

Cleopatra sat up. "Prepare myself for what?" she asked suspiciously.

Aapep glanced back over his shoulder, out into the gathering darkness, then turned back to face his queen. "I… I'm afraid you must prepare yourself for the afterlife." Aapep seemed close to tears, which surprised Cleopatra. "I'll do what I can to delay these men." With that, he fled out of the litter. She could hear the sound of low talking outside.

"Oh your majesty!" cried Charmian, tears coursing down her cheeks. The two women hugged each other hard.

"It's all right Charmian," said Cleopatra as she comforted her distraught slave. "I will soon be among the Gods, and I would like for you to come with me."

"Thank you your majesty! It will be an honor to serve you in the afterlife."

"No more tears then, eh? We will face our destiny together." Both women laughed quietly, and wiped away their tears.

A man entered the litter without knocking. A palace guard – grim, cold, unsympathetic. He drew a large curved dagger from his sheath without saying a word, and took a step forward. In spite of their earlier words of comfort, both women drew back in fear, clinging to each other.

The guard's progress was interrupted by the sound of a commotion outside – the sound of fighting, the clash of swords. He turned around to see Aapep stagger into the litter – his throat slit open, blood spewing, unable to speak. The guard watched as Aapep collapsed at his feet and died.

The distraction proved nearly fatal as Titus Pullo charged into the litter, gladius held in a low forward thrust. The guard blocked with his dagger, forcing the gladius out of the way, while turning and punching Pullo hard on the chin. Pullo jumped back. There simply wasn't room in the litter to fight with swords. Pullo pretended to be stunned from the blow and dropped his gladius to the floor. Seizing the opportunity, the guard leapt forward for the kill. Pullo blocked and grabbed the guard's knife arm, while swinging up with a punching dagger, stabbing the guard in the gut. The guard fell to the ground, and Pullo followed him down, stabbing repeatedly. Pullo didn't stop until he was exhausted. Meanwhile, the sound of fighting outside ended as Vorenus finished off the final palace guard.

Pullo pulled back from the dead guard, taking in his surroundings for the first time. He found himself staring at the most beautiful woman he had ever encountered, and she stared right back, eyes wide, lips slightly parted, panting with exultation after her near death and sudden rescue. It took a moment for Pullo to recover enough to speak.

"Legionary Titus Pullo at your service, _Domina_," he said. _And by the Gods I would like nothing better than to be at your service._

"You will address her majesty properly!" snapped Charmian, hoping to gain some control on behalf of her mistress. "You are addressing Queen Cleopatra VII, she of the two ladies, she of sedge and bee, daughter of Ra. Cleopatra the Divine."

_Divine? Oh yes! No argument there_, thought Pullo, who continued to gape while imagining all the things he would like to do with her.

At that moment, Vorenus stuck his head into the litter, interrupting Pullo's fantasy. "I presume I am addressing her majesty Queen Cleopatra?"

In Pullo's eyes, Cleopatra seemed to instantly transform from hot to haughty ruler. "I am," she replied.

_How do women do that,_ thought Pullo as he stood up from the dead guard.

"Your majesty," intoned Vorenus. "Gaius Julius Caesar, Consol of Rome, sends greetings. We are here to protect you from harm, and to return you to your rightful place."

"Caesar is here, in Egypt?" said Cleopatra as she thought about the implications.

"Yes, madam."

"I look forward to thanking him in person. You have my thanks as well. Please take that with you as you leave," she said, pointing to the two dead bodies. "And send in a slave to remove this," pointing to the cuff around her ankle.

"Yes madam," both men said together. Vorenus and Pullo bowed. Each grabbed a limb and dragged the bodies out of the litter and through the camp.

"Wow!" said Pullo once they were away from the litter. "Have you ever seen such cunny?" They unceremoniously dumped off the bodies into a shallow ditch nearby the camp.

"She's way out of your league Pullo," replied the ever pragmatic Vorenus. "For that matter, she's way out of my league too. You'd best forget about it. It's never going to happen."

"A man can dream can't he?" retorted Pullo, but he knew Vorenus was right.

Vorenus sighed, and slapped Pullo on the shoulder. "Come on, let's set up for the night."

***


	5. Chapter 3 Search and Rescue Part II

Author's Note

In hindsight, I should have just waited and combined these two parts into a single, long chapter. Oh well. As I wrote this, I hit a good stopping point, earlier – but better – I think, than the one I originally intended. Happy holidays!

* * *

Chapter 3 – Search and Rescue - Part II

Cleopatra's camp, somewhere in the desert

_Tap tap tap… tap tap tap._ The ankle bracelet fell free at last. The slave gathered up his tools, bowed, and exited the litter. While she had been chained up, Cleopatra would have given anything just to get out of the litter for a few minutes and walk free. Now that she was free, her erstwhile prison had become her shelter from the world outside. Apart from Charmian and the camp slaves, Cleopatra was uncertain who could be trusted. She needed a powerful ally.

"The palace court will fall into line with whoever has power," Cleopatra said to Charmian. "But until I achieve dominance, no one in court can be counted as an ally."

"Caesar seems to be an ally. He did send those men," Charmian pointed out.

"Caesar is Roman. I doubt he has the best interests of Egypt in mind."

"True, but if I may be so bold, I don't think there is much choice in allies. Not until you have returned from exile."

"I need to be sure of Caesar's loyalty. He must have a personal interest in my well being." Cleopatra fell silent, thinking, then smiled. "I must seduce him and bear him a son."

"But he is old. He may not be capable of giving you a son."

"Well then, we'll just have to make sure there is a son. There are two Romans outside. Go fetch one and bring him here."

Charmian went out to where the two Romans had made camp for the night. "Which one of you is in charge?" she asked.

"I am," can the reply. "I am Lucius Vorenus."

"Come with me please. The queen has need of you." Without waiting for a reply, Charmian turned and walked back to the litter.

"Well you're a lucky bastard. 'The queen has need of you.' Ha!" said Pullo with a big grin on his face.

"Don't get excited Pullo. She probably wants news of Alexandria," Vorenus called over his shoulder as he headed off. Some of the women in the camp had gathered around the litter, and were looking at Vorenus expectantly, giggling amongst themselves.

Pullo didn't have long to wait. After two or three minutes, Vorenus returned to their campfire, looking a bit pale and shaken.

"Pullo!" ordered Vorenus. "You are to report to the queen's litter and do as she commands."

"Sir!" said Pullo, giving Vorenus a quick salute. _What could have gotten Lucius so worked up?_

Pullo entered the litter and stood at attention. "Legionary Titus Pullo reporting for duty."

Cleopatra didn't say a word. Instead, she just looked Pullo up and down, as if evaluating a cut of meat at the market

"He'll do," she said, and gave a nod to Charmian.

Charmian stepped forward. "Please remove your clothes. The queen wishes to copulate. Do you understand? The other one seemed a bit thick." To drive the point home, Cleopatra moved her legs slightly apart while looking Pullo directly in the eyes. It was suddenly difficult to think.

"Hang on!" said Pullo, feeling slightly out of breath. "Is this what you asked Vorenus to do?"

"Yes," replied Charmian.

"And he refused?"

"Yes."

"The man's insane!" Pullo's tunic hit the floor in a clatter of weapons.

***

Vorenus sat near the fire, staring out into the dark and trying to ignore the royal litter. He was first in camp to notice the growing thunder of fast-arriving horses. Vorenus jumped to his feet, unsheathing his gladius. "Pullo! We've got trouble!" Vorenus yelled towards the litter. "Pullo! Get out here NOW."

"CACK!" came the muffled reply. Pullo charged out of the litter, naked, armed with his gladius. They stood together, ready to defend the queen. Horsemen charged into the camp, ignoring the slaves scattering out of their way, heading straight for the litter and the two armed men who stood before it, pulling out their own swords.

"HOLD!" Achillas called out. The horsemen fanned out, surrounding Vorenus, Pullo, and the litter, making escape impossible. Vorenus nudged Pullo, and jerked his head towards the archers among the horsemen, ready to shoot. Pullo silently nodded back.

Achillas had known for a while he would not be able to arrive in time to save Cleopatra. The best he could do was kill the men he sent earlier, present their heads to Ptolemy, and hope for the best. He did not expect to find a man dressed in legionary tunic in Cleopatra's camp. That had to be one of Caesar's men. It was the reason why he stopped his men from attacking. Achillas had the upper hand – he could afford to ask questions first, and kill later.

Achillas nudged his horse forward a couple of steps. "Who are you?"

"I am First File Lucius Vorenus. And this," said Vorenus, nodding towards Pullo, "is Legionary Titus Pullo. We are both of the Thirteenth Legion, under command of Gaius Julius Caesar."

"Why are you here?"

"Our orders are to protect the queen and return her safely to Alexandria. If you are here to do her harm, we will defend her." Vorenus projected confidence he did not feel.

"The queen lives?" Achillas saw an opportunity.

"She does. We arrived in time to kill assassins sent earlier."

"Stand down!" Achillas called out. His men relaxed and sheathed their swords, some reluctantly, disappointed they weren't going to draw blood. Pullo and Vorenus relaxed a bit, but remained alert. "My name is General Achillas. Gentlemen, you have my thanks." Achillas dismounted, and held his horse by the reins. "I'm afraid the house of Ptolemy is somewhat divided on the issue of who has the greater claim to the throne. Those assassins were sent by one faction. We were sent to stop them – too late I'm afraid. Caesar did well to send you when he did."

"We are only doing our duty," Vorenus replied somewhat stiffly.

"Of course, as are we. But tell me, why is this man naked?" Achillas pointed to Pullo.

"Legionary Titus Pullo!" Vorenus called out.

"Sir!" said Pullo, coming to attention.

"You are out of uniform."

"Yes sir."

Vorenus paused. "Return to your duty."

"Yes sir!" said Pullo, a big grin on his face. Pullo turned, and marched off to the litter.

"And what is his duty?" asked Achillas.

"To do as the queen commands," replied Vorenus, as innocently as possible.

The women gathered around the litter began trilling, a loud ululation drowning out any sounds from within.

***

Achillas paced back and forth, impatient. "I do wish your man would hurry up in there," he said to Vorenus.

"What's the concern?" asked Vorenus.

"Cleopatra's enemies must know my group traveled south to rescue her, and will be expecting her to return by litter. It will take at least two days if the litter bearers can hold to a fast pace, but a return on the third day is more likely. That gives her enemies plenty of time to set up an ambush. The same trip by horse will only take three hours at most. Caesar will return to the palace in the morning to be shown the Circle of Ma'at. I will advise the queen we should return to Alexandria right now, tonight, so that Caesar can witness the queen's entrance at the palace, days sooner than anyone will expect."

In spite of misgivings, Vorenus was inclined to agree. His original plan to escort the litter until they reached the outskirts of Alexandra had been spoiled by the arrival of Achillas. Speed and stealth of night would now have to substitute for the quiet return desired by Caesar.

Things had quieted down at the litter. Pullo came out, fully dressed this time, and headed towards Vorenus. Achillas hurried to the litter, knocked, and entered.

"And you thought it could never happen," grinned a happy Pullo. "What a woman! The things she wanted me to do! Like a starving dog with a steak, she was. Good orders you gave. The best I've ever had."

"Sorry to spoil the moment, Pullo, but Achillas wants us to return with the queen to Alexandria immediately, tonight."

"What! Is he crazy? It is a full moon, near enough, but it's still a dangerous ride. And besides, I thought _we_ were going to be returning Cleopatra to the palace, not this lot."

"Look Pullo," said Vorenus in a lowered voice. "I don't like it either, but if he can talk Cleopatra into it, we don't have a lot of choice."

"I don't think we can trust him."

"No, we can't. He's up to something. Achillas may not remember me, but I remember him from the palace today with Caesar, and he seemed to be Ptolemy's man at the time."

"So what do we do?"

"For the moment, our goals are the same – to return Cleopatra to the palace. We ride along and stay close to the queen."

Achillas exited the litter, and began to call out orders to his men. The camp came alive with activity as preparations were made. Vorenus and Pullo walked over to Achillas.

"Ah, good," said Achillas as the two Romans stepped up. "I know you do not report to me, but I would like for you two to at act as the queen's personal guard. Do you concur?"

"We do," said Vorenus, a bit surprised. He had been planning to demand just such a role, and was glad there would be no argument.

"Excellent," said Achillas. "I'm dividing my men into two groups. One will ride with us as we slip out of camp, and the rest will stay here with the litter caravan. In the morning, the caravan group will make a show of breaking camp, and begin to journey back to Alexandria with all the pomp and circumstance appropriate to a royal procession. If there are any spies, it is my hope they will be watching the caravan. Of course, if all goes as planned, we will already be in the city by midnight, if not before."

Cleopatra stepped out of her litter, along with Charmian. One of Achillas' soldiers brought a horse over, and knelt down on hands and knees. Cleopatra stepped up on his back, using the soldier as a footstool to mount the horse.

"Good night and good luck," Charmian called softly. She turned, and went back inside the litter.

"She's not coming with us?" asked Pullo.

"No, I'm traveling light," replied Cleopatra. "Charmian must maintain the appearance I am here, with the caravan."

"Your majesty, it is an honor for Pullo and me to act as your personal guards on this return journey," said Vorenus. "We will do our best to keep you safe."

"I know," said Cleopatra. "It was one of my conditions to Achillas, that you be my guards." She smiled. "I do not trust him."

***

The return trip to Alexandria, Vorenus reflected, went a lot better than he had expected. It was clear Achillas' men knew the territory and could avoid areas that might prove hazardous to a horse running by moonlight. The route they followed bypassed all settlements. In the clear night, fires built by groups camped in the desert were easily spotted and avoided. And now, the city wall itself was faintly visible in the moonlight ahead, a dark gray outline against the stars. Vorenus, Pullo, and Cleopatra rode a few seconds behind Achillas and his men, not wanting to be clustered with the main group.

Achillas called a halt, and spoke to his men in a low voice.

"I wonder what he's up to now," Pullo whispered to Vorenus as they, too, came to a stop behind the men.

"I think we will soon find out. Stay alert," replied Vorenus, equally low.

The horsemen took off riding for the city, leaving behind Achillas and one remaining guard. Achillas rode back closer to speak. "I've sent my men on to the south gate," he said. "They are to be a diversion from our own entrance into the city. We will enter through the east gate."

"But that's well out of the way," protested Cleopatra.

"Yes, your majesty. But if, by chance, someone is on the lookout for your return, they will expect you to enter from the south. Five people entering from the east is too small for a royal entourage and will not be noticed."

"It is a reasonable precaution," conceded Vorenus. He was also glad of the fact that the odds were now even. He and Pullo could easily take control of the situation.

"Very well," said Cleopatra. "Let us proceed to the east gate."

All five riders set off as a single group, moving at a trot. As they approached the gate itself, they slowed to a walk.

"Halt! Who goes there?" came the challenge.

"Quintus Maro, is that you?" Pullo called out. "Who did you piss off to get night duty?"

Laughter could be heard among the guards. "Titus Pullo, you're one to talk! What are you doing out there in the middle of the night?"

"Oh well, you know me. Always in trouble. But you boys better look sharp and open the gate. I have a Centurion with me."

"That's First File Lucius Vorenus to you," Vorenus called out. "Stop fooling around and open the gate."

"Yes sir!" came the reply. The gate slowly creaked open.

"Thanks fellows. Sorry we can't stay and chat," Pullo said and gave a friendly wave as they rode by. The group soon turned a corner and was out of sight. An occasional torch lit the way, but the side streets were swallowed up in shadow.

"Which way now?" asked Vorenus. "I've not had time to become familiar with the city."

"We go to the palace of course," said Cleopatra, as if everything was perfectly obvious.

"This is why I stayed with you," said Achillas. "You need a guide. This way." Achillas pointed down the street they were on.

"I don't need a guide – I've lived here all my life," retorted Cleopatra. She looked ready to take off on her own.

"With respect, madam, you have lived all your life inside the palace, on the north side of town," said Achillas. "We are on the east side. There are bad areas and there are worse areas. I greatly fear for your safety as long as we remain on this side of town at night. Please allow me to guide you through the less dangerous areas."

"He does have a point, madam," said Vorenus. "Even in Rome, a small group such as ours in the wrong part of town can be vulnerable to organized criminals."

"All right, fine," Cleopatra said with a pout. "Lead on."

The horses moved forward at a walk, the sound of their hooves echoing slightly off the mud brick buildings. Once in a while, Cleopatra could make out someone in the shadows, a shape seen briefly that vanished as soon as it was noticed. It was enough to spur her on in silence.

"Your majesty, if I might make another suggestion," Achillas said in a quiet voice. "Since we are back in Alexandria early, we should wait until morning, and time our arrival at the palace just after Julius Caesar returns. Not far ahead is a house your father would use whenever he felt the need to get out of the palace; a place to relax and meet privately with friends."

"Yes, I know of it."

"We can safely stay the night there, in comfort, and continue on to the palace in the morning."

"An excellent suggestion, Achillas. Take us there," Cleopatra replied, in an equally low voice. It seemed to her there were more people in the shadows than before. She had no idea crime could be so bad in her own city.

"Pullo?" said Vorenus as they rode along.

"I see them," Pullo replied. "Glimpses of them. Can't tell out many are out there." He quietly unsheathed his gladius.

"Achillas, I suggest we pick up the pace," Vorenus said quietly but firmly.

There was a sudden quick motion in the shadows. "ARRG!" yelled out Achillas' guard, his cry of agony loud after the hushed tones. He slumped in his saddle, a knife sticking out of his chest.

"GO! GO! GO!" Vorenus called as he grabbed the reins of the guard's horse. In an instant, they were flying down the street at a full gallop, as men hidden in side allies ran out and grabbed for reins or bridle – anything to stop the horses as they went by. Some were to regret that, as Pullo and Vorenus slashed at anyone within reach. Only a few seconds had passed, but it seemed far longer to Cleopatra as they finally rode clear of the ambush and down the street to safety.

At last they reached their destination. Achillas banged on a street-front gate with the butt of his hilt. The gate opened, and they quickly rode into a small but well-lit yard. There were two men manning the gate, Vorenus noticed, and several more stood waiting to assist the queen and her entourage. The wounded guard was already being carried off to the back of the house.

"A lot of slaves for a single house," commented Pullo as they dismounted.

"Not an ordinary house," murmured Vorenus in reply. "Let's stay close to the queen, if she will have us." Cleopatra turned and gave Vorenus and Pullo a look. Both men fell in close behind her as she confidently strode to the house entrance. Slaves sprang into position, opened the double doors, and bowed. The interior opened up to a garden courtyard, the style copied from a Roman _domus_ typical of the very wealthy.

"Hello sister," a voice called out from the shadows. Ptolemy XIII stepped forward into the torchlight. "Glad you could make it."


	6. Chapter 4 – Exile

Chapter Note

Surprise! I still exist. Yes, it's been way too long since the last update. I'd like to promise I'll do better, but I think that would set up an unrealistic expectation. I have family obligations, I work full time, plus sometimes we have to work nights and weekends. In fact, I have to be back on the job at midnight tonight. But at least all that overtime means more money, right? Wrong! Welcome to corporate America. Okay, this is turning into a rant.

A word about Drachma. The amount Egypt owes to Rome is 17 million drachma. This figure is expressed in the story as 17 thousand thousand drachma because the Romans did not have a word for "million." In 48 BC, a skilled worker could earn 1 drachma a day. Unskilled labor was generally 1/2 drachma, or nothing if you were a slave. So yes, 17 million drachma was a large amount of money at the time. Also, you can expect in any haggling over money, no matter what price Caesar named – it could have been just 17 drachma – the amount would have been denounced as too much, unaffordable, will bankrupt the nation, etc.

* * *

Chapter 4 – Exile

Royal Safe House, Alexandria, Egypt 48 BC

Ptolemy laughed loudly at Cleopatra's shocked expression. "If only you could see yourself!" He clapped his hands and bounced up and down with excitement. "I may commission a bust of you, looking just like that, so I can remember this moment."

Ptolemy turned to Achillas, and wagged his finger. "You know, when you sent those men to the palace to have me awakened in the middle of night, urging me to come here, I thought about having you put to death," he said in a light voice, a smile on his lips. "But this is well worth it! You have outdone yourself, Achillas."

"Your majesty," Achillas bowed deeply.

Pullo stirred slightly. It was enough to cause Ptolemy to jump back a few steps.

"Oh sister, I suggest you rein in your Roman pets, or they will die on the spot," he said. "I would like for them be witnesses, to report back to Caesar what happens when someone betrays me, as you have. But I don't _require_ witnesses."

Pullo stared hard at Ptolemy, making him even more nervous, in spite of all the palace guards present.

"Do as he says," said Cleopatra, keeping her eyes on her brother. A slight smile crossed her lips. "For now."

Pullo didn't seem to notice.

"Pullo," Vorenus said gently. "Now is not the time." Pullo rocked back slightly, still glaring at Ptolemy. The moment seemed to pass.

"A wise decision." Ptolemy stepped forward again, a false smile on his face. "And now, dear sister, I will tolerate no excuses tonight." He gripped his loincloth. "Let's see how well you can please your husband, as a good wife should."

Pullo began to rock forward. Ptolemy dropped his loincloth and jumped back once again. Cleopatra put her hand on Pullo's arm, stopping him.

"_Domina_, let me do this!" Pullo growled in a low voice. "I can kill him before his guards can stop me."

"That's 'your Majesty,' not '_Domina_,' and your life is not the only one at stake," she whispered back. "Even if you succeed, you will get us all killed." Pullo settled back once again.

"Don't worry about me," Cleopatra said loudly to Pullo. She wiggled a pinky at Ptolemy. "It's just a small matter. This won't take long."

There was dead silence. Ptolemy turned beet red with rage. "You… you… I piss on you! I shit on you! I should kill you here and now!" Ptolemy paused. "But that's what you want, isn't it?" He grinned unpleasantly, and clapped his hands together. "Of course that's what you want! Death on your terms. Sorry, dear sister," he said, his enthusiasm soaring again. "You're not worthy of death. Neither are your bedroom pets. Tie their hands behind their backs!" he ordered, and glared at the two Romans. "And if either of you tries to resist, you will have the honor of living just long enough to inform Caesar how you failed to protect the queen."

With grudging reluctance, Pullo and Vorenus allowed themselves to be tied up. Pullo tried flexing his bonds, and to his disappointment found them to be secure.

"What's to become of us?" demanded Vorenus as he tested his own bonds. "We are Caesar's men. If you harm us, you will answer to Caesar."

"**I… AM… KING!**" Ptolemy screamed in Vorenus' face, spittle flecking around his mouth. "I answer to no one!"

Ptolemy circled around in front of his audience, and was abruptly calm again. "As for you? Why, you carry on as before, as the queen's protectors. Those are your orders, are they not? Where she goes, you go. I see no reason to interfere," he said with a sly smile. "As for the queen, she is to be exiled."

"Exiled? That doesn't sound so bad." Pullo trailed off when he saw Cleopatra's expression. She had paled, and looked ready to faint. "Rome isn't bad this time of year, _Domi… _your Majesty. I'll show you the seven hills myself, if it pleases you." None of this seemed to encourage her.

"I don't think he means a trip to Rome," said Vorenus in a low voice, as Ptolemy burst out laughing.

Ptolemy clapped his hands together and rubbed them. "Let's get going," he said. "This has been a lot of fun, but it's time I got back to the palace." Guards grabbed the three prisoners and began to force them out the doorway.

"Where are we going?" asked Vorenus, as they walked through the yard and out the gate into the street.

"Oh, not far. Just about block away, in fact," replied Achillas. He gave a signal, and the "criminals" who had been hiding in the shadows came out and joined them.

"I take it we were attacked by your own men?" asked Vorenus.

Achillas smiled. "Did you really think the streets of Alexandria are so dangerous? Gangs running the East side? No no, just a bit of theater to keep everyone moving and not asking too many questions."

"But your own guard –"

"Died a few minutes ago. A pity, but his family will be compensated. As Centurion you should know a sacrifice is sometimes needed to achieve victory."

"On the battlefield, yes. But this isn't a war," replied Vorenus.

Achillas shook his head. "When it comes to the royal family, politics is war," he sighed. "It's the same in Rome too, you know."

"Rome is a republic!" declared Vorenus. "We dispensed with kings centuries ago."

"This from a man who marched with Caesar into Rome itself? Time will tell."

They rounded a corner, and came to an open square with an imposing stone building, hieroglyphs carved on the walls and on the papyrus-style columns. They were marched straight to the entrance.

"What is this place?" Pullo wondered as they walked between the columns and through the entrance.

"This," answered Cleopatra in a hushed tone, "Is the Temple of Ma'at. This is where one passes from this world into the netherworld."

"Ma'at?" asked Vorenus. "Your majesty, does this have anything to do with the Circle of Ma'at?"

"You know of it?" Cleopatra was surprised.

"Only by name. We assumed it is some sort of symbol."

"Oh, it's a good deal more than that," enthused Ptolemy, overhearing the exchange. He waved his hand. "Behold! The Circle of Ma'at."

In the torchlight, Vorenus and Pullo could make out a large, strange metal ring set up behind a statue of a woman. Ptolemy waved his hand to a priest standing nearby. The priest walked over to a large tablet mounted before the circle, with an odd arrangement of sigils carved around a red dome. The priest began to mumble a prayer under his breath. As he finished, he pushed one of the sigils. The sigil lit up, bright in the gloom, and a light on the circle turned on.

"What's this?" asked Pullo, suddenly unsure of himself.

"You are witness to something only a privileged few have ever seen," said Achillas. "The incantation calling forth the entrance to the netherworld." The priest finished his next prayer, and pushed another sigil. A second light on the circle came on.

"And most of those privileged few depart this world soon after, just as you will!" Ptolemy giggled.

Another prayer completed; another sigil pushed; a third light on the circle. Cleopatra stood with her eyes closed, apparently calm, but Pullo could see her shaking slightly. The sight made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Pullo was fearless in battle, but this thing? It made him want to run very far away.

"What do you think, Lucius?" Pullo said in a low voice. "Can they really do it? Open a gateway to the netherworld? And whose netherworld anyway? Ours, or the Gyppos? If we step through with the queen, will we stay with her or be separated?"

I think," said Vorenus, "all your questions will soon be answered."

"I was afraid of that," Pullo replied as the priest pushed on the red dome. A strange groaning sound came from the circle, followed by a bright flash of light, momentarily blinding the three captives. Pullo thought he saw a rush of water, but with his eyes tearing up from the sudden brightness, he couldn't be sure.

"Oh, that's not so bad," Pullo said with a forced lightness. "I thought the netherworld would be a dark place, but look how bright, how full of light it is. See? Not so bad."

"How strangely like… a puddle of water," Vorenus replied with wonder in his voice.

"Untie their hands and return their weapons," called out Ptolemy. He grinned at Vorenus and Cleopatra. "You'll need them where you're going." He eyed Pullo. "Even you."

As their weapons were returned, the guards drew their own swords and formed a loop shoulder-to-shoulder around Pullo, Vorenus, and Cleopatra. There was only one direction they could freely move, and that was towards the circle of light.

"Well, don't just stand there – go! Go!" motioned Ptolemy impatiently. The guards took a step forward, tightening the loop. Cleopatra surprised everyone by walking decisively to the circle. Vorenus and Pullo hurried to keep up. She stopped just short of the event horizon and turned.

"I promise you this, my brother," she said, glaring at Ptolemy. "If there is a way back from the netherworld, I will find it. And if not, I shall make it my business to advise Ma'at on how you are to be judged." She motioned to Pullo and Vorenus, who stepped up beside her. "Shall we step through together? It may improve our chances of arriving at the same destination."

"On the count of three, your majesty," replied Vorenus. "One… two… three." As one, the three stepped into the circle and vanished. Shortly afterwards, the flickering light vanished, leaving everyone in the dark until their eyes could once again adjust to the torchlight.

"A good night's work, Achillas," said Ptolemy. He paused for a moment in thought, looking a bit worried. "Do you think my sister can find her way back from the netherworld?"

"It's never been done, your majesty," said Achillas. "In any event, the temple is always guarded."

"Excellent! But double the guard, just to be sure."

"It shall be done your majesty."

* * *

_As one, the three stepped into the circle…_

…and out the other side. The circle shut down, plunging them into darkness.

"Cack! I thought the netherworld was going to be bright," said Pullo.

"Are we in the netherworld?" wondered Vorenus. "It seems to me all we did is step through the circle and out the other side."

"No, this place is different," said Pullo, as his eyes adjusted to the dark. "But it doesn't look like the netherworld to me."

"What were you expecting? As far as we know, this is the netherworld," said Cleopatra.

"Listen!" said Vorenus. "I can hear someone coming."

"Or some **thing** is coming," said Cleopatra. "This is the netherworld after all."

"Stay behind us, your majesty," Vorenus commanded. "We'll do our best to defend you."

"I'm hearing several footsteps," whispered Pullo. "I hope that's people, and not some multi-legged creature."

Cleopatra nearly objected to being ordered about by this Roman, but changed her mind as the sound of multiple feet grew louder. They didn't have long to wait. Three people came into view, walking down a long, sloping hallway into the room. Two were boys, each carrying a torch, flanking a man wearing Greek style garb. They stopped a few feet away, out of immediate danger of a swinging gladius.

"Just as I thought," the man said. "More exiles sent through by Ptolemy." He smiled. "These boys are always expecting monsters to come through the circle every time it activates. Tell me: what time of the day or night is it?"

"What?" said Vorenus, thrown off by the question.

"It's a simple question: what time is it?"

"It was the start of third watch – but first things first. Who are you?" demanded Vorenus, still keyed up and not letting his guard down.

"Third watch? About midnight then. Oh yes, sorry – I'm forgetting my manners. My name is Demetrius."

"Demetrius?" Vorenus looked at Pullo in wonder. After expecting monsters themselves, it all seemed so ordinary.

The man laughed. "Yes, I am Demetrius of Eleusina." Both Vorenus and Pullo shook their heads. "Eleusina, West Attica? As in the Eleusinian Mysteries?" Demetrius muttered something about Roman education. "It's a bit over 13 miles northwest of Athens."

"Oh Athens, right." Pullo nodded his understanding. "I've heard of that one."

Demetrius motioned them forward. "You really should step away from the circle. If it should activate where you are standing, you will be killed by the wash."

Still a bit wary, Vorenus put away his gladius and stepped forward first. As he did so, Demetrius noticed Cleopatra for the first time. His eyes widened in surprise. "Princess Cleopatra! Oh, I am sorry I didn't see you before," he said, bowing, ignoring Vorenus for the moment.

"Your highness," began Demetrius, "I want to reassure you: this place is NOT the netherworld. I am happy to say the priests back in Alexandria are completely wrong on that point. Your spirit is intact, just as in our own world. But beware, you are also vulnerable to injury and death. I have witnessed both births and deaths among the local population and the people exiled here. Allow me to guide you out of this place to the nearby village. Things are much more comfortable there."

Demetrius motioned to the two boys, who began to lead everyone along the upward sloping hallway. Daylight could be seen streaming in from a large entrance.

"It's Queen now – not Princess." Cleopatra gave their guide a closer look. "And aren't you the philosopher who disappeared from the Temple about four, maybe five years ago? I was told you had given up studying the Circle of Ma'at and left for home."

"Yes, I was there to study the circle, your highn… I mean your majesty" replied Demetrius. "But I had not given up. I was, in fact, in the middle of an experiment when I was pulled into the circle, and I wound up here, like so many others."

"And where is here?" asked Vorenus as they reached the end of the hallway, and stepped outside blinking in the early morning light.

They now stood at the top of a long ramp leading down to a sandy desert expanse. At the bottom of the ramp stood two obelisks, one on either side; guardians of the ramp. Near the ramp stood a figure holding the reins of a large hump-backed animal. _A camel,_ Vorenus thought to himself. Nothing else of importance was in sight; just wind-blown sand dunes.

Demetrius smiled and waved grandly at the scene before them. "Your Majesty, Romans – welcome to Abydos!"

Everyone spoke at once.

"This isn't Abydos! I've been there, and this most certainly is not it," said Cleopatra.

"How can it be morning already? It's hours yet until dawn!" said Vorenus

"Oh great, more desert," said Pullo.

"To answer as best I can," replied Demetrius as they began to walk down the long ramp. "Yes your majesty, you are quiet right; this is not the city of Abydos in the Upper Kingdom. However, this place – this world – is called Abydos by the local natives. They named this pace in honor of that city."

Demetrius looked to Vorenus. "To address your question – this place, Abydos, is a very long way from Egypt, Rome, Gaul; everything we know. We are so far away the very stars in the night sky are different, proof we are not under the same firmament. Both days and nights are longer here. As a result, sunrise and sunset only occasionally coincide with Egypt."

"How could you possibly know that?" asked Vorenus.

"I am skilled in the calibration of both sundials and water clocks, so I know my time. Remember that first question I put to you? On every occasion, when an exile comes through the circle, the difference in time between Egypt and here varies."

Demetrius turned to Pullo. "Yes, at first glance this looks very much like the desert of Egypt, but don't let appearances fool you. The differences will soon become apparent. Look back the way we came."

They had reached the bottom of the ramp, and stood between the great obelisks. The group turned around. They had emerged from a large pyramid, with a well-marked grand entrance. But this pyramid had a different look to it, Vorenus noticed. Whereas Egyptian pyramids had a smooth white limestone finish, this one had an unfinished utilitarian appearance – just bare stone – as if it had been built for a practical purpose instead of a monument to a pharaoh. And there were strange vertical gouge marks here and there, as if something very large and heavy had clawed the top of the pyramid.

"I recall no pyramid like that in either Upper or Lower Kingdoms," remarked Cleopatra as she looked it over.

Pullo noticed the markings, and pointed. "Now what do you suppose caused that? Are there any giant half-man half-bird creatures with claws we should know about?"

"Something like harpies? No, I've never seen anything that could do that," replied Demetrius. "And fortunately, those marks are relatively old. Even from here, you can see the edges of the scars are a bit smoothed due to the sand storms.

"The locals say this is the very place where Ra held court when he arrived in his floating palace. The palace is so large it actually settles down on the pyramid itself, like a bird on a perch. But that has not happened in living memory."

"Hang on," said Pullo. "How can a palace be so light that it floats in the air, and yet so heavy it leaves gouge marks on that pyramid?"

"Yes, I acknowledge the contradiction," replied Demetrius with a shrug and a smile. "I merely pass on the story as told to me. Shall we continue to the village?" He waved towards the waiting beast of burden.

Vorenus was startled to realize the creature was no camel. "What is that?" he asked warily. As the new arrivals stared at this animal, a living thing unlike any they had ever seen or heard rumor of, it truly began to sink in just how far away from home they were.

"That is a mastadge," replied Demetrius. "The Abydos version of a camel, and highly prized by the locals. Unlike camels, they don't spit, but if it likes you, a mastadge might try to lick you. I would avoid that if you can. Much of the clothing here is made from mastadge wool. And a word of advice: If you are offered mastadge 'milk,' make an excuse and politely decline. Nasty stuff. Mastadge cheese is at least tolerable.

"But I digress. Your majesty, your steed awaits." Demetrius waved grandly at the mastadge, and the mastadge handler coaxed the animal into a kneeling position, allowing access to a broad chair-like saddle on its back.

"I'm supposed to ride that thing?" said Cleopatra, her nose wrinkled up. The wind had changed direction, and the mastadge smelled like an overflowing latrine.

"I'm sorry, your majesty, it's either ride the mastadge or walk. There are no litters here."

Cleopatra suddenly realized how tired she felt. It might be early morning on Abydos, but it was still the middle of the night in Egypt. "Very well. We must make do with what we have." And with that, she climbed aboard the saddle. Fortunately, the saddle included a pair of handgrips, whose importance Cleopatra discovered as the mastadge lurched to its feet, nearly flinging her out of the saddle in the process. She quickly fought down a surge of panic, put on a regal expression, and with as much dignity as possible declared, "Just like riding a horse."

"Some horse," snorted Pullo, as Vorenus gave Pullo a glare of warning. Cleopatra simply stared ahead with a stony expression.

"Right, well, if we're all ready." Demetrius signaled the handler, who began to lead the mastadge out into the desert. There was no trail Pullo or Vorenus could discern, other than a few footprints in the sand the wind would easily obscure before the day was over. This did not seem to bother Demetrius. The two boys skipped along on either side of the mastadge, talking and laughing. The sight of them reminded Vorenus of something said earlier.

"Demetrius, why did you say the boys were expecting monsters to come through the circle?"

"Local legend has it that once in a while, about every five years or so, man-like creatures called Jaffa come though the circle. They march into the village, order people about, perhaps kill a few as well, and generally make a mess of things. Once they are satisfied the people are humbled, they leave again."

"And no one tries to stop them?" asked an astonished Cleopatra. She had quickly adapted to the swaying rhythm of the mastadge, and was now riding comfortably.

"They dare not," replied Demetrius. "The Jaffa are representatives of Ra. To defy them is to defy a God. Actually, the story goes some of the early exiles did defy the will of the Jaffa. A few exiles had built a small school, and were openly teaching some of the children how to read."

"What happened?"

"The Jaffa surrounded the school, set it on fire, and killed anyone who attempted to escape. Then they killed the village elder."

"And when did this happen?" asked Pullo.

"About five, maybe five and a half years ago, perhaps a year before I arrived."

"Doesn't it bother you to realize these Jaffa may return at any time?" asked Vorenus.

"Of course. That's why we teach reading in a secret location now."

"Do you intend to rebel?"

"No, it's too soon. We intend to appear meek, mild, and obedient in every respect. The only reason the local villagers are even willing to consider rebellion is because of the infrequent visits. In the past, Jaffa came by on a weekly basis. Ra himself would visit about once a year. But all that changed a very long time ago – thousands of years ago in fact, if you believe the stories."

"What happened? Why the change?"

"No one knows, I'm afraid."


	7. DRAFT Chapter 5 Intermezzo

Chapter Notes

Sorry, no, this is not a full chapter, but a draft; a work in progress; a teaser, if you will.

If it's been a while since you read the beginning of the story: Remember that throw away reference in the prologue to the Goa'uld running across the Aschen Confederation? This is where that begins to pay off.

As I started to work on this, it finally dawned on me: We know almost nothing about the Aschen Confederation, other than the Aschen being, in O'Neill's words, "a race of accountants." Since this story is set in the far past, when the Aschen were just getting started, the field is wide open for me to go nuts, and a bit nuts I have. This is, after all, supposed to be a story about Romans and the Stargate, not a confrontation between the Aschen and the Goa'uld.

If you, the readers, think this turns out to be too much of a digression, I suppose it can always be separated out as a side story.

Besides Stargate, I had three other Science Fiction TV shows floating around in head as I wrote this. Time to play Spot the Homage.

* * *

Chapter 5 – Intermezzo

Aschen Confederation Mission CCF-434

Destination: Colony B3K, ETA 3 Months

Earth Time: 3004 BC

Fleet Captain Rillac sat down at his desk in his quarters, sipped his coffee, contemplated the monitor in front of him, and sighed. He had only stepped away to the head for a few minutes, and now another six unread status reports awaited his attention. Most of these were routine and didn't tell him anything he didn't already know, but procedure required he review and sign off before they could be transmitted to Mission Control as part of the daily fleet status report. On months-long FTL missions like this, playing escort to a dozen freighters bound to colony B3K, there wasn't much else to do while between solar systems. The only excitement they anticipated would be at the end of their nine month voyage when they arrived at B3K.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. The deck chief had decided to keep the maintenance crew occupied with major overhauls on all the F-2 fighters. Captain Rillac signed off on the plan, but would only allow 30% of the fighters to be down for maintenance at any one time, even in mid-flight. This caused some hard feelings, since the deck chief made it abundantly clear he wanted a full 50% available to complete the overhauls before arriving at B3K, and in his opinion, it hardly mattered how many were down while they were between systems anyway. But Captain Rillac was old-school, remembered the history lessons of the Belter Rebellion, and didn't care if the overhauls could not be completed prior to their arrival. 70% combat readiness would be more than enough.

The real problem was, six months into the mission, the chief was still moody and just shy of being insubordinate. Rillac was sorely tempted to put into the chief's next evaluation report the four magic words that would kill anyone's career in the Aschen Confederation: "Not a team player."

His monitor pinged just then, and popped up a reminder message, interrupting his thoughts.

"80% redline in 10." Rillac stood up, pulled on his jacket, checked his appearance, and headed down the busy hallway to CIC, saluting various crew members along the way.

"Captain on deck!" called out the on-duty security officer as he entered. Everyone stiffened to attention.

"As you were." Rillac eyed Dillard, his XO. "What's the sitrep?"

"We are 3.2 minutes from FTL drop," replied the XO.

"Three minutes? That sounds a little early."

"It is. Freighter 221 is hitting 80% of redline on their FTL engines a couple of minutes earlier than predicted. Again."

That was the other sore point in an otherwise uneventful mission. The crew of Freighter 221 seemed incapable of accurately predicting when they would need to drop out of FTL to allow their engines to cool. No one else had this problem. And that was something Rillac simply could not understand, because Captain Villeta of 221 had the most seniority and experience among the commercial freighter captains.

"Very well. Put the word out at T minus two." Rillac looked around CIC, and was pleased everything was running smoothly. His eyes proudly settled on the polished brass plaque mounted on the far wall.

Battle Carrier 17  
Series D  
Manufactured 1152  
Aschen Prime Shipyard 5  
Aschen Aerospace  
A Division of  
Aschen Confederation

Dillard's voice boomed over the PA. "This is the XO. All hands secure for FTL drop in T minus two… mark."

"All departments report ready for drop."

"All freighter captains report ready for drop."

Rillac watched the countdown on the main monitor. There was really no need for him to do anything. The computers were in control after T minus one, but it was tradition to give the command regardless. "Drop."

The ship shuttered and vibrated as it transitioned from hyperspace into normal space. To the uninitiated, the effect was like a brief earthquake. In the darkness between solar systems, thirteen bright flashes marked the appearance of the thirteen ships of mission flight CCF-434.

"Freighter captains are reporting in… all systems nominal. Initiating stabilization burns and extending radiator panels."

The XO nodded his approval. "Reset the countdown clock to T minus 3.5 hours… mark." The status board – another window display on the main monitor – showed the twelve freighters had synced their countdown clocks to _BC17_'s own.

The transition over, Rillac turned to his XO. "Mr. Dillard, I'll be in my cabin, doing the one thing captains ever do these days – paperwork."

"Better you than me, sir," Dillard said with a grin. Rillac rolled his eyes, and headed back to his cabin.

In spite of the presence of a battle carrier, this was still considered a commercial mission. Under ordinary circumstances, freighters traveled without escort; they did, after all, have their own light duty rail guns and other tactics at their disposal. But with rumors of unrest on colony B3K, the bean counters back on Prime wanted a show of force, and the Security committee was more than willing to play along. The mere presence of a series D battle carrier, in their estimation, would keep things in check. Rillac thought the tactic more likely to backfire, but of course no one asked his opinion. The options at his disposal would allow Rillac to do anything from street patrols to rendering the entire ecosphere of B3K uninhabitable. It was that overkill capacity he thought likely to trigger protests. Rillac shook his head, and got back to work reviewing reports.

* * *

Freighter 221

Captain Dipa Villeta leaned back in her pilot's chair, and admired the view. That was one advantage of flying a freighter: other than the addition of FTL engines, the design hadn't changed significantly in the last two or three hundred years. It was simple, reliable – a living relic of a bygone era when the Aschen were limited to their home solar system. And they still built them with windows – one of the few times Villeta could appreciate bureaucratic inertia.

"Hey Sam, you got the numbers for the next FTL leg?" Villeta called out.

Sam Preston leaned back from his station. "Sure. Why do you ask?"

Villeta grinned. "You know why."

Sam groaned. "Are we doing that again? You know I hate screwing with the numbers."

"Don't be so whiney. It's just a bit of fun. This time subtract 2.5 minutes from the redline prediction. That'll give Rillac some heartburn."

"I have to sign off on this stuff you know. It violates the Code of Business Conduct."

"And I have to approve it, so that makes me the responsible party." Sam just sat in his chair, arms crossed. Villeta threw up her hands. "Okay, okay, this will be the last time. After this next leg, just straight-forward calculations. Who knows: by the end of this mission, Rillac may be so pleased with our 'improvement' he'll write a letter of commendation."

Sam's resistance finally crumbled. "Fine. Subtracting 2.5 minutes from the redline prediction." Sam altered the report, changed its status from "pending" to "final" and sent it to Villeta's pilot station for approval. Villeta opened the document, gave it a cursory review, tapped "approved" and sent it on to _BC17_.

"So much for that," said Villeta, pleased with herself. "How are the radiators doing?"

Sam checked his monitor, and then looked out the port observation window. "Still glowing."

"And the cargo?"

"No issues there – transition harmonics have dampened out. Autopilot's keeping it together at minimum thrust. No overcorrections."

"Excellent. We still have three plus hours on the countdown. Time for a break." Villeta stood up and stretched. "Are you coming?"

"Sure thing. Just give me a sec." Preston stood up, walked the two steps it took to cross the narrow flight deck, and looked out the starboard observation window at the second radiator panel. "Looking good."

Villeta nodded her approval. While Preston's display told him everything he needed to know about the ship's status, when you were sitting in deep space, a mark-one eyeball check was always reassuring.

Villeta patted the bulkhead. "She's a good freighter. I'll miss her when we rotate out."

Preston snorted. "Tow barge is more like it."

"Shhh! Don't let her hear you," said Villeta with a look of mock concern.

"Boss, you are so full of it." They both burst out laughing, and went below to the mid-deck.

Technically, Preston was correct. Freighters did not carry freight internally – freight rode in cargo pods clamped to a tow cable strung out behind the ship, like pearls on a string. While a standard cable was five kilometers long, the length unspooled depended on the number of cargo pods hauled on a given mission, typically three kilometers or less. The cable was managed by the Tow Module, which in turn docked to a specialized docking ring dead center in the freighter's stern. The stern was ringed by five massive engines, which were normally gimbaled outward a few degrees to prevent exhaust damage to the trailing cable and cargo pods. Like a shark swimming continuously, a freighter was always under a very small but steady acceleration to maintain proper tension on the cable.

Cargo pods varied by use and could contain anything: extra fuel for long-haul missions, unrefined ore, manufactured goods, hazardous materials, even prisoners.

This arrangement allowed for a great deal of transport flexibility and minimized down time. In less time than it took the FTL engines to cool off, a freighter could drop off its cargo string, rotate crew, refuel, and pick up a new cargo string for its next mission flight. The design philosophy owed much to the two-word motto of the original manufacturer, long since absorbed into the Aschen Confederation: Keep Flying.

It did not allow for much in the way of maneuverability. Like a super oil tanker, course changes while towing had to be carefully planned. That could make things a bit awkward if, say, raiders attacked. Still, there were plenty of dead raiders who underestimated what could be done with that modest workhorse and relic of the past, the freighter.

* * *

Message ID: 001048572

Timestamp: 158.346

Classification: Restricted - Authorized Individuals Only

Priority: 1

Severity: 1

Return Receipt: DO NOT ACKNOWLEDGE

From: FC Rillac, BC17-D / CCF-434

To: Mission Control

CC: Security; Government Services; Aerospace; Scientific

Subject: First Contact Alert

Begin

Have encountered a large, unescorted ship of not of AC origin. No IFF. Design is a four-sided pyramid. Propulsion system unknown. Offensive and defensive capability unknown. Science department risk analysis indicates this ship represents a great leap forward in technology. Accounting has authorized an emergency capital expenditure to capture this ship, with extreme prejudice if required, as a prize for the Confederation.

Attachments

Cost estimate form, budget waiver form and approvals, fleet ship logs, flight recorder logs, sensor data, updated next-of-kin declarations

Authentication

+xyXcii/fnU+1JMtQdbLS05rH7J/iBZQdSYj968pqWEpzlw9k2C/v+bLgTdjh/rrBKXsJYeChWvyCq/ozqfifv3yTYm/hW3JfBzRfCs/ YnSlo571A42MEr4cNq6Kk

End

/*


End file.
